


The Smith and His Lady

by TenToo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 00:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5144027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenToo/pseuds/TenToo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Tommen Baratheon has been overthrown by the brotherhood without banners and Gendry Baratheon has been crowned the rightful King of Westeros as Robert Baratheon’s oldest male heir. He has been ruling but a fortnight when he summons a skilled swords-woman named Arya Stark to him from Braavos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Two Letters

There was a sharp rap on his door and Gendry looked up from the letter that a raven had just brought him. “Come in.” 

His servant Holin poked his head in and said, “Lord Tommen Baratheon is here to see you, Your Grace.”

“See him in, Holin.” Gendry said, stowing away the letter hastily as Holin stepped aside, allowing the young man to enter the King’s chambers. A boy of only 15, Tommen had hit his growth spurt and now stood at a respectable 5’7”, but he was still growing.

“Your Grace.” Tommen said, bowing.

“There’s no need for that, Tommen.” Gendry said, deciding to be friendly with the former King.

“As you wish, Your Grace.” Tommen said, giving the King a cheeky grin. The two men stared at each other for a moment before laughing. 

“I’m glad they didn’t have you beheaded.” Gendry said, smiling.

“As am I.” Tommen said, grimly. The two fell silent. 

Gendry broke the silence, “What brings you here, Tommen?” 

Tommen cleared his throat and seemed to be searching for the right words. “Given that the truth of my parentage has come out, I formally request a change of surname, if you would so graciously oblige, Your Grace.”

“And what surname is this? Waters? As you are a bastard, Lord Tommen, you should not take the name ‘Lannister’.” Gendry said, leaning back in his chair. Tommen eyed him thoughtfully. 

“May I speak frankly with you, Your Grace?” Gendry nodded; Tommen continued, “You have taken the name ‘Baratheon’, yet your father, King Robert, never acknowledge you. Meanwhile, my mother has acknowledge my siblings and I to her father before he died.”

Gendry closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Tommen had a good point and that upset Gendry greatly. He had taken the Baratheon name without being recognized by his father. But that was because he was required to as the King. He was Gendry of House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.

Gendry spoke after several minutes, “I should have had you beheaded for being born of incest, Tommen, in addition to you having been the King under false terms.” His voice was rising, leading the young boy to shrink back into his chair. Gendry’s fist was clenched, he realized it and sighed. He relaxed himself and grabbed for his glass of wine. He drank it all then turned his gaze to Tommen again, who was practically shaking, likely regretting coming to see the King in the first place. Gendry said, “I apologize, Tommen. I should not have raised my voice to you.” He took a deep breath and continued, “If you summon your father from Casterly Rock, and he acknowledges you as his rightful heir, you will be allowed the Lannister name.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Tommen said, smiling. The young boy rose to leave. He gave the King a bow and then left the room. 

Gendry sighed and pulled out the letter again the second the door slammed shut. 

 

_ Your Grace, _

_ I congratulate you on your Kingship and humbly offer myself to your service. The Boltons have had a shaky relationship with the Kingdom over the past years but as a fellow bastard, I find myself drawn to your Kingsguard. I’m aware that you have a position available. Please respond at your earliest convenience. _

_ Ramsay Bolton _

 

Gendry thumbed the corner of the parchment. He knew nothing of Ramsay Bolton. Gendry stood and strode out of his office. Holin ran after him as he walked down the hallway. Gendry said, “Gather the small council and have them meet me in the chamber.” 

“Yes, Your Grace.” Holin said, hurrying off to alert all seven members of the small council.

Gendry beat everyone to the small council chambers, as he expected he would. His Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was the first to arrive. He had been chastised by the other members of the small council for his appointment of Brienne Tarth, but he saw her as an admirable woman who was a formidable fighter and well-deserving of the position as Lord Commander, despite her gender. 

“Good afternoon, Your Grace.” She said, taking the seat to his right. 

“Good afternoon.” He said, smiling at her. 

The rest began to trickle in: Hand of the King, Ser Davos Seaworth; Master of Laws, Nymeria Sand; Master of Whispers, Varys; and Grand Maester, Theobald. Last to come in were his half-siblings, also bastards of the late King Robert Baratheon: Master of Coin, Mya Stone; and Master of Ships, Edric Storm. Gendry had been pleased to hear that other bastards had survived. He had sought out his half-siblings and invited them to join his small council, he was happy that they had obliged. They had only arrived the day before, Gendry hadn’t met them yet. They both walked over to him and the girl, Mya, said, “King Gendry, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

“It truly is nice to meet you, Your Grace.” Edric said, bowing slightly. Mya did her best curtsy, bringing a smile to Gendry’s lips. 

“It brings me great pleasure to finally meet you.” Gendry said, nodding to each in turn. He swept his hand over two seats at the far side of the table and said, “Please, sit, so we can get started.”

They both made their way to their seats and Edric sat directly across from the King, Mya to his left next to Nymeria Sand. Gendry pulled out the letter from Ramsay Bolton and read it aloud.  

Once he finished, Davos Seaworth said, “This, of course, cannot be allowed.” 

Gendry replied, “Who is this Ramsay Bolton?”

Varys was the one to speak up, “Your Grace, he is the acknowledged bastard of Roose Bolton, former Lord Paramount of the North. He is savage and flays his victims alive, a true Bolton. He is not a wise choice.”

The King nodded and said, “Who should I appoint instead?”

“How about Lucas Tyrell?” Brienne asked, everyone looked at her.

“And who is he? Why should I add another Tyrell into my Kingsguard?” Gendry asked. 

“Lucas is a man who fights courageously and with great speed and agility. He is an admirable fighter.” Gendry nodded. 

“Any other suggestions?” Gendry asked, opening the floor to all of them.

Nymeria Sand didn’t hesitate. “Perros Blackmont.” Gendry looked at her, waiting. She continued, “He is the son of Lady Larra of Dorne. He is a strong lad and has proven himself in tourneys.”

“Any suggestions from you two?” Gendry asked his half-siblings. 

Both shook their heads.Edric said, “We don’t know anyone of great skill. We cannot advise.”

Brienne Tarth chimed in again. “How about Ser Jaime Lannister?”

“Why would I want the Kingslayer, a one handed man known for incest, in my Kingsguard?” Gendry scoffed.

“If you heard his story of the night Aerys Targaryen died, you wouldn’t view him in such harsh light.” Brienne replied, her voice small and sad. 

Gendry looked at her, pondering it. “Regardless, he should be with his son, Tommen, in Casterly Rock.”

Brienne nodded and didn’t say another word for the rest of the meeting. Gendry frowned at her silence as they continued their discussion. 

Gendry finally spoke up after letting Davos, Nymeria, and Varys argue back and forth for half an hour. Brienne, Mya, Edric, and Theobald remained silent throughout the whole ordeal. Gendry spoke to the Grand Maester, “Send word to Perros Blackmont of his appointment to the Kingsguard. Tell him to depart for King’s Landing immediately.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.” Theobald said, rising from his seat with difficulty. He hobbled out of the chamber. 

“You’re dismissed.” Gendry said, waving them away. All six began to leave but Gendry called Brienne back. She stood in front of him, arms behind her back. “Why the silence, Lady Commander?”

“I told you, I’m not a lady. Never call me that, please, Your Grace.” She said quietly. He nodded and waited for her answer. She frowned and said, “You had already shot down two of my ideas, I didn’t think that any more of my input would be valuable.”

“Your input is always valuable, Brienne.” Gendry said softly. 

Brienne nodded and said, “If that’s true, here’s some sound advice: watch out for Margaery Tyrell.”

“Who?”

“She is Tommen Baratheon’s wife. But she was married to the late Renly Baratheon and the late Joffrey Baratheon. She is insistent on becoming Queen.” Brienne told him seriously. 

Gendry was quiet for a moment then said, “If she is Tommen’s wife, why should I have to be wary of her?”

“Tommen and Margaery never consummated their marriage. They can annul it and Margaery will be free to marry whomever she chooses.” 

Gendry said, “Ah, well Margaery Tyrell will be disappointed.” Brienne gave him a blank look. “My heart belongs to another.”

“Oh, who is the lady, Your Grace?”

“A story for another time, Commander.” 

Brienne nodded and began to back out of the room. “Of course, Your Grace. Good day.”

“Good day.” He replied, sitting down. He didn’t have long on his own, the door opened and his squire walked back in, holding a letter. “What do you have there, Holin?”

“A letter from Lady Arya Stark.” Holin answered. Gendry sat up straight and held out his hand for the letter. Holin deposited it and backed out of the room, trying to ignore the delight on the King’s face. 

Gendry took a deep breath before opening the seal. 

 

_ Gendry, _

_ Or shall I call you King? I leave Braavos tomorrow for King’s Landing. The prospect of seeing you is too much to let pass by. I thought you dead for the past few years after the Red Woman took you away. I shall hope to arrive within a fortnight. _

_ Arya _

Gendry folded the letter and sat back in his chair, a small smile spreading on his face.

 


	2. Reunited

Arya climbed out of the boat and looked up. _King’s Landing_. She hadn’t seen it in years, not since her father was executed. The red brick city seemed more foreign to her than Braavos had been. She had nothing but a bag slung over her shoulder and her sword, Needle, at her side. She took a deep breath before walking through the Mud Gate. She travelled through Fishmonger’s Square, winding her way through the narrow streets of River Row to reach the Red Keep. She climbed up Aegon’s High Hill, through the main gate, and into the Outer Yard. She knew the Red Keep well from her time living in King’s Landing. She knew that Gendry would be in Maegor’s Holdfast as that was where his chambers were and, at this hour of the morning, he would likely still be there. 

She walked through a portcullis, through Middle Bailey, down the serpentine steps to Lower Bailey. She was about to walk through the gate to the Holdfast but was stopped by a gold cloak, one she recognized.

“Anguy?” She asked, not even trying to pull her arm free from his grasp. 

He blinked at her and it took him nearly half a minute to recognize her too. “Arya Stark.” He smiled at her, not having seen her since his time as a member of the Brotherhood Without Banners. 

“You’re a gold cloak? Gendry made you a gold cloak?” She asked, eyebrow raised. “You gave him to the Red Woman!” 

Anguy rolled his eyes. “I didn’t, Thoros did. Then we helped him with his rebellion and the throne.”

Arya stared hard at the Archer and said, “I’m here to see Gendry; let me pass.”

“That’s King Gendry, little lady.” 

She broke free of his grip and said, “I’m not a lady. Let me see the king.”

“He’s done well without you. You should run back to Braavos.”

Arya was about to draw Needle from its sheath when a deep, feminine voice called out, “Commander Anguy, that’s enough!” Arya turned her head and saw a hulking woman walking toward her, draped in a white cloak. 

“Commander?” Arya spat in disgust. Brienne of Tarth looked down at her as Arya said to her, “Are you a Commander too? Seven hells.”

“Commander of the Kingsguard at your service, Arya.” Brienne said, bowing slightly to her. Arya’s eyes narrowed at the movement.

“My apologies, Arya.” Brienne said sincerely, after noticing Arya’s displeasure at her bow. “I’m here to take you to the king.” 

“Lead the way, m’lady.” Arya said, mocking her with a poorly-performed curtsy. 

Brienne didn’t say another word as she led Arya into Maegor’s Holdfast. They went through the halls and up staircases until they reached Gendry’s chambers. Brienne said, “I leave you here. Good day.”

“Good day, Brienne.” Arya said, sorry for being mean to her. Brienne nodded and left.

Arya stood outside the door for a solid minute, trying to get up the courage to knock. She had come all of that way just to see him, she was being ridiculous. _Just knock._

“Is m’lady nervous to see the king?” A voice behind her asked. Arya spun around and saw Gendry leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. She had never seen him in such fine clothing. She didn’t want to admit that he looked good. 

Arya didn’t say a thing as she ran at him and wrapped her arms around his torso, hugging him tight. His arms snaked around her body and held her to him with great force. _Still as strong as ever_. They held each other for longer than necessary; Arya finally pulled away.

“Well don’t you look…royal.” 

“And you look like a peasant, but _I_ wasn’t going to say anything.” Gendry said with a smirk set on his face. Arya smiled at him. He asked, “Would you like to take a walk?”

“Lead the way, my king.” It was Arya’s turn to smirk at him.

They walked side by side, arms bumping as they descended their way through Maegor’s Holdfast. They walked out into the sunshine. Arya was deep into her story of her adventures in Braavos when they passed Anguy on their way out of the gate. 

“King Gendry.” Anguy said, nodding at him. 

“No greeting for my guest, Commander Anguy?” Gendry asked, stopping abruptly. 

Anguy’s smile faltered and said, “Afternoon, Lady Stark.”

Arya glared at the man and Gendry shoved the Archer against the wall. “Don’t ever call her a lady again. Got it?”

Gasping, Anguy said, “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Good.” Gendry released the Commander of the City Watch and continued with Arya as if nothing had happened. She launched back into her story until they were passing the Mews and barking made her stop in her tracks. It had been four years, but she knew that bark. She ran into the Mews and swung the door to the cage open. The massive wolf stared at her.

“Nymeria!” Arya shouted, running into the stall to the direwolf. The wolf ran at her and she wrapped her arms around the animal. Nymeria let out a happy cry as she nuzzled against Arya. 

Arya released Nymeria and turned to Gendry. “Where did you find her?” 

“She was roaming the Riverlands and captured because she and her pack have been killing many knights and commoners in the area.” 

“That’s my girl.” Arya whispered, affectionately running her fingers through Nymeria’s fur. To Gendry, she asked, “Why not just kill her?”

“I wanted her alive to see the beast myself.” Gendry admitted, leaning against the side of the stall. “Once I did, I couldn’t execute her. She’s magnificent.”

“Yes, she is.” Arya said affectionately. 

“Of course you can keep her with you now.” Gendry said, looking at the direwolf. “She’s yours after all.”

Arya released Nymeria and walked toward Gendry, sinking against his chest and hugging him tight. He smiled to himself and hugged her back. He commented, “Although, it may get awkward if you ever bring her around my small council.”

“Oh, why’s that?” She asked upon releasing him. 

“My Master of Laws is also named Nymeria. Nymeria Sand.”

“Of Dorne?” Gendry nodded. “Who else is on your small council, if I may ask, Your Grace.”

“Don’t you ever call me ‘Your Grace’ again. Not you, _m’lady_.” He said before launching into who was on his council and why he had chosen them.

“Had you met your brother and sister before now?” Arya asked. Gendry shook his head. “At least you have them now.”

Gendry looked at her sadly. “Sansa’s safe at Winterfell. And Rickon’s out there too, somewhere.”

“Any news of Bran?” She asked quietly.

“No, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t make it out of Winterfell too. If little Rickon could do it, Bran could too.”

“How do you know Rickon is alive?” She questioned. 

“My Hand told me. He was supposed to acquire Rickon and his direwolf when he fought for Stannis Baratheon.”

“And you trust him why?”

“He saved my life.” Gendry said, smiling. “He released me from Melisandre and Stannis.”

Arya just nodded. Gendry looked at her sadly and said, “I’ll have my men find Rickon.”

She looked at him, frowning. “What if he doesn’t want to be found?”

Gendry thought for a moment. “Then he’s more like you than you thought.”

She smiled and said, “I hoped he would turn out like Robb.”

“You can still hope that, he’s young yet.” Gendry said, pushing himself off of the stall wall. “Now, may I show you to your chambers?”

“If you must.” She said aloofly, still thinking of her youngest brother. 

He led her up the serpentine steps to the Maidenvault. He had a chamber prepared for her arrival the second he received her letter. He opened the door for her and allowed Arya to enter before him, followed by Nymeria. She looked around the room and turned back to Gendry. “You did all of this for me?” 

“Of course. You’re my lady.” He said, smiling stupidly. 

Arya rolled her eyes and replied, “Then I guess you’re my smith, eh?”

“I’ll allow that.” He said, taking her hand in his. She looked down at their hands then back at him. It’s not like she hadn’t thought about it before, but when his head was lowering to hers, she wasn’t sure of what to do. His lips brushed against hers softly and only for a moment before he backed away. “I’ll leave you, I have a small council meeting.”

He left the room quickly and she wished that the moment had lasted longer. 

 


	3. The Wager

Gendry’s head slid down his hand and he was jerked awake by the sudden loss of support.His small council was staring at him and he straightened up in his chair and cleared his throat, feeling a blush spread across his cheeks. He muttered, “My apologies.”

The Hand of the King said, “You have no reason to apologize, we understand why you had little sleep last night. The young Stark girl was due to arrive this morning, is that correct?”

“Oh, Davos, nothing slips by you.” Gendry said, smiling at the Onion Knight. That was one of the things that he hated about being king, everyone knew what he was doing every second of the day. And everyone knew how he felt about the young girl returned from Braavos. 

Ser Davos Seaworth nodded at the king and continued, “As we were saying, Your Grace, our dungeons are full of soldiers from Stannis Baratheon’s army. What would you have us do with them, Your Grace?”

“How many?” Gendry asked.

“Nearly a thousand, Your Grace.” Nymeria said. She had been in charge of their imprisonment. 

“Enough with ‘Your Grace,’ in these chambers, I’m just ‘Gendry.’ I mean, blimey, you’re all several years my senior.” Gendry said, with a very sarcastic roll of his eyes. Nymeria smiled as him and his half-siblings let out quiet chuckles. Gendry let the chamber fall silent before asking, “What are our options?”

Nymeria took a deep breath and said, “We have several, Your Gr…Gendry.” Edric laughed but when the Sand Snake shot him a glare, he stifled his laugh immediately. Nymeria went on, “We can kill them all and put their heads around the city to ward off anyone who would dare challenge your throne; another option is sending them all to trial for their individual war crimes, although that would take months; we could release them, if you felt generous…” 

“What of sending them to the Wall?” Gendry asked, everyone looked at him. “Give them the option of taking the Black or losing their head.”

“Isn’t that a bit…harsh, Gendry?” Theobald wheezed. The old man had perked up in his chair at the start of the conversation.

Gendry shook his head and stared down the Grand Maester. “We all know that the Night’s Watch is desperate for men and we have a dungeon full of experienced warriors. To quote the Starks, “Winter is Coming,” and we need defense against the White Walkers when it does.”

“Is that your verdict then, Gendry?” Nymeria asked.

“Yes.” He said, nodding. He looked around the table and asked, “Anything else for discussion today?”

“One more.” Davos said, glancing at the notes he had made. He seemed a little hesitant as he continued, “The issue of Stannis Baratheon. He, too, is in chains in the dungeon. Will you give him the option of taking the black or losing his head?”

Gendry was truly at a loss when it came to Stannis Baratheon. After Gendry and Edric, he had the best claim to the throne. But if he was going to send Stannis’ men to the Wall, shouldn’t he do the same to him? Or should he kill the false king?

“Gendry?” Davos asked, a sense of urgency in his voice.

“I will need to think on the issue of Stannis Baratheon. Keep him in chains for now.” Gendry stood up and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve an old friend to converse with.”

Everyone bowed to him and Commander Brienne fell into step beside him. He looked up at the woman and asked, “May I help you with something?”

“I can take you to young Arya. She is in the practice yard with my men.” Brienne said as they exited the chamber. They walked through the Great Hall and Gendry glanced over at the Iron Throne. It was the most uncomfortable thing he had ever sat on and wished to have words with Aegon Targaryen, the one who ordered the forging of the horrid creation. How he hated the thing. Brienne couldn’t help but notice him. “How is your kingship suiting you, Your Grace?”

He smiled at her blunt question. “I’m still pondering that myself, Commander. I wasn’t raised to rule. They say it’s in my blood but I have yet to wade through my commoner blood to get to the royal kind.”

“You’ll find it, Your Grace.”

“How do you know?” Gendry asked as they passed through a gate into the Godswood to take a shortcut to lower bailey where the White Cloaks would be practicing. It was peaceful in the Godswood, not many in King’s Landing practiced the Old Religion. He knew Arya used to since she was of the North, but she had told him on their travels with Yoren that she had abandoned religion altogether. 

He forgot that Brienne was talking and missed her reason for why he would find his true royal self. He just nodded when she finished talking and they walked in silence to lower bailey. They passed through the gate and heard grunting and the clashing of swords. Some men were shouting as Gendry and Brienne rounded the wall that surrounded Maegor’s Holdfast. In the center of the bailey, two people were fighting, swinging their swords at each other. From the small stature and size of the one opponent, Gendry knew that Arya was one of them. He waited for them to finish and clapped with the other knights of the Kingsguard, who had been unaware of their Commander and king’s presence. 

While the men bowed to the king, Arya rolled her eyes and took off her helm, setting the dull practice sword in the holder with the dozen others. Gendry walked over to her and her opponent. Ser Loras Tyrell was sweating profusely and looked down at Arya as he said to the king, “This one is feisty, Your Grace.”

“Yes, she is.” Gendry agreed. Arya smiled at him. 

“This one can speak for herself.” She commented.

“That she can.” Gendry said, chuckling to himself. Ser Loras began to remove his armor but Gendry said, “Are you not going to give me a demonstration?”

The knight looked at the king but another, taller, knight stepped over. He removed his helm and stood next to Arya. He was tall and lean with gray hair and a face lined from age. His bright blue eyes settled on his great-niece but he spoke to the king, “If you would like a true demonstration, perhaps you should look to someone more experienced than Ser Loras and dear Arya here.”

“Ser Brynden, I meant no disrespect to you and your fellow guardsmen.” Gendry said, looking at the knight as sincerely as he could. Arya looked up at her great-uncle as he replied, “No disrespect taken, Your Grace. I was merely suggesting we offer you a real demonstration. Although young Arya here fights like her brother Robb and is certainly worthy of watching.”

Arya had to look away. This was the first time she had seen her great-uncle in over a decade, not since she was a little girl and his hair had been slightly more auburn, yet he offered her the highest of compliments. Robb Stark had been a valiant and brave fighter and to be compared to him was too much for her. She would have cried had she not been hardened by her years on the road since her father’s beheading.

“What say you to a fight against young Podrick?” Gendry said, looking over at their newest knight. Podrick Payne had proven himself in damn near every battle waged for Gendry’s war. He had been taught by Commander Brienne Tarth herself while they searched for Sansa Stark years ago. He wasn’t a pudgy squire anymore; he was a hardened knight, well-built. 

“The lad is quicker than I, Your Grace, but I have experience on my side. A worthy challenge, I’d say.” The Blackfish said, glancing over at Podrick. He picked up his helm and walked over to Podrick Payne to issue a practice challenge. 

Brienne said to Gendry, “If Pod gets hurt, I’ll have your head.”

“Now that’s no way to speak to your king, Brienne.” Gendry joked.

The large woman stared down Gendry until he said, “Alright, alright, you can give me a good wack if Pod’s hurt badly.”

Brienne smiled and stalked off to get a better view. Gendry looked at Arya and said, “Want to get closer?”

“To the fight, you mean?” She clarified, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course, Lady Stark.” He said, playfully. 

“Let me get this armor off.” She made quick work of it with his assistance and they walked over to the fight that was shaping up. Podrick had put his armor on and the Blackfish was doing his best to intimidate the young knight. Brienne was trying to encourage her friend but the old man from Riverrun was seasoned and knew how to win. Gendry and Arya sat on a low wall a short distance from the men and watched as they danced around each other. When they heard the first clang of metal on metal, Gendry leaned toward Arya and said, “Wager on the outcome?”

“The Blackfish, of course.” Arya said without hesitation.

“I’ll go with Podrick, I like the weak ones.” 

“You always did like the scrawny kind, didn’t ya?” She asked, nudging his shoulder with hers.

He smiled and said, “Yeah, well, maybe I just felt sorry for them.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

“I never said you couldn’t.” He said, quickly. He looked down before glancing over at her. “Can I ask you something important? It’s a matter of life and death for someone.”

She perked up and half-turned toward him. “Go.”

“We still have Stannis Baratheon in our dungeons. What do you think should be done with him?” He asked, not taking his eyes off of hers. She took her time with the question. They listened to the clashing of swords and the clanging of sword against armor as the two men fought a mere 10 meters from them. She finally said, “I would send him to the Wall. My brother, Jon, needs all the help he can get. He’s the Lord Commander now, did you know?”

“Of course, I know.” He said, smiling. “I’m supposed to know everything, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s you, so I figured you wouldn’t.” Arya joked. 

“So the Wall then?” He asked, seriously. 

Arya nodded. “It’s the smartest choice.”

Gendry didn’t say anything and turned his attention back to the fight that was winding down. A few more attacks and Podrick yielded. Arya smiled and her great-uncle removed his helm and his opponent raised the Blackfish’s arm in victory. 

“Well done, Ser Brynden!” Gendry said, standing up and shaking hands with both competitors. He was glad to see that Podrick was still healthy and unharmed; Brienne wouldn’t get the chance to throttle him now. “It was truly a spectacle to watch. But I must be off. And I’m sorry to say that I’m stealing the Lady Stark from you.” A few of the knights were upset, particularly Ser Perros Blackmont and Ser Narbert Grandison. Gendry added, “I’m sure she’ll grace your presence again before long.”

The knights all bowed to him again as they left; the direwolf, who had been laying by the well, stood and trotted after them. Nymeria kept her distance behind as they walked through the gate into the Godswood. 

“Why are we going this way?” Gendry asked.

“Your reward.”

“I get a reward? You won the bet, my lady.”

“Fine, my reward.” She shook her head at his nerve and took his hand, pulling him on. She took him to the overlook and they looked over the Blackwater. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He said, simply. He placed his arms on the rock ledge and leaned against it, looking over the water to the land on the other side. He still couldn’t believe it was his. Arya slipped her arm under his and leaned her head against his shoulder. He glanced down at her. “Are you glad you left Braavos?”

“Let’s just say I’m glad I’m with you.” She said, smiling. She looked away from the water and turned her attention to him. Their eyes met and hers flicked to his lips before returning to his eyes again. He smiled and leaned in, she did the same until their lips met. This time, it wasn’t a brief brush, Gendry untangled their arms and turned toward her, taking her head in his hands and kissed her properly. Her hands rested on his chest as he kissed her until he couldn’t anymore. They stood there, their foreheads touching as they caught their breath. Arya knew that she would never go back to Braavos, at least, not without him. 

 


	4. Lord Lannister

The riders passed through the gate just after dawn. The golden hair of the two men leading the group was very noticeable since one had been dethroned two months previous. Their group had been given a wide berth since entering the city that morning. Tommen had met his father at the gate, riding down from the Keep early that morning so he didn’t miss him. It had been a cheerful reunion. Tommen chattered happily on about his wife, Margaery, but Jaime knew that she was planning to leave him. 

He told Tommen to wait for him in lower bailey and he would find him after. Jaime Lannister strode through the halls he knew all too well, no sword at his side for one of the first times in his life. He had been a warrior for so long but since his house had lost the throne, he decided on a quiet life in Casterly Rock. 

Gendry would be in his quarters at this hour, a kingsguard posted outside his door. Jaime reached the hallway fairly quickly but he was stunned by who was guarding the door. 

“Podrick?” Jaime said, looking at the young man in his white cloak. 

“Ser Jaime. Or is it Lord Lannister now?” Podrick asked, remaining at his post next to the king’s door. He wouldn’t move for anything.

“I…I am not sure myself, Podrick.” Jaime said, a half-smile on his face.

Podrick nodded. “Why are you in King’s Landing?” 

“I must speak to the king on Tommen’s behalf.” 

“Of course, I heard of his attempt at a name change.” He said, nodding. 

“Yes, the boy deserves something good in his life. He lost the throne. He will soon lose his wife to another, less disgraced nobleman. I fear for my son.” 

“Yes. Let me wake the king.”

“There is no need to wake him, I am more than capable of waiting.” Jaime said. 

Podrick shook his head. “No. He wants to see you, said so himself last night.”

Jaime nodded. Podrick looked uneasy as he entered the outer chamber of the king’s quarters. He returned not a minute later with the king. 

Gendry approached the Lannister man and beckoned him to follow him down the hall. Jaime wondered where he was taking him. Gendry said, “I appreciate the speed in which you came.”

Jaime nodded to the new king and said, “When you are summoned by the king, you waste no time.”

“You were summoned by your son, Lord Lannister.” Gendry said as they strode through the Great Hall, past the Iron Throne, and toward the small council chamber. Jaime was pleased to know that he was indeed the Lord of Casterly Rock. 

“Indeed, I was.” He nodded. “I was pleased with the decorations on the way into the Keep.”

Gendry looked at him confused. Jaime clarified, “The heads. Ser Meryn Trant’s was a pleasure to see. Did he scream when you cut it off?”

“He did.” 

“Coward.” Jaime muttered as they entered the small council chamber. Gendry sat in his usual seat at the head of the table but Jaime was unsure of where to sit. Gendry motioned to the seat to his left. 

When Jaime was seated, Gendry pulled a scroll from a breast pocket and said, “Shall we discuss your son’s name?”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Jaime said, placing his hands on the table. The fake hand made a loud noise when it hit the wood. Gendry pretended not to notice, the man was a cripple with bastard children born of incest, he didn’t need to be humiliated further. 

“I have everything ready here, all you must do is sign.” Gendry said.

“Is it really that simple?”

“It is that simple. As long as you acknowledge that Tommen is your rightful heir and son.”

“Of course he is.”

Gendry nodded and slid the paper over to him, following with a quill and ink. He watched as Jaime poised to quill to sign the document. He lowered the quill slowly and looked at the king, “Why are you doing this for my family?”

Gendry knew he would question his motives. He leaned forward and rested his hands on the table. “You surrendered the royal army. You ended the war when your sister wouldn’t. Your son listened to you and sought your wisdom; I wouldn’t sit here if it weren’t for you.”

“You’re mistaken, Your Grace. I wouldn’t sit here if it weren’t for you. You let me keep my head. You let my son keep his head. My family owes you and we will never be able to repay that debt.”

“The Lannisters unable to repay a debt? Let’s pray that’s not the new unofficial motto of your house.” Gendry said, a small smile on his face.

The somber face of the Lannister man softened. “No, let’s pray it doesn’t.” He picked up the quill again and signed the document without flourish. He set it back down and a smile began to stretch across his face, erasing the scar on his cheek as it spread. It made him even more handsome, if that were possible. 

Gendry watched his happiness and said, “Brienne speaks highly of you.”

“She has no reason to but she does anyway. What does she say now?” Jaime asked, leaning back in his chair.

“First, she suggested you for the Kingsguard.” Jaime seemed unsurprised by this. “But I didn’t wish for a man known as the Kingslayer to join my ranks, not when he was loyal to the previous king, who I had just overthrown.” Jaime nodded. “But, I can’t help but wonder why my own father kept you in the Kingsguard when you had slayed his predecessor.”

“Robert never knew the true reason I killed the Mad King. Only Brienne has been graced with the truth.” He said quietly. He had been staring at his fake hand for the longest time but he finally met the king’s eyes. “And I’m guessing she wishes for me to tell you.”

“She tells me I will not view you as harshly.” Gendry nodded. He wasn’t going to push the issue if Jaime didn’t want to tell him but the Lannister man began to tell the story.

He spoke quietly, barely a whisper, “The Mad King was obsessed with wildfire, he loved the way people burned, how their skin blackened and melted from their bones. He burned those he didn’t like, no matter their nobility. He had his pyromancer place caches of wildfire all over the city when he realized half the country was against him. The day came when Robert Baratheon marched on the capital after his victory at the Trident and after killing the king’s eldest son and heir. My father arrived first with our whole army at his back, he promised to defend the city agains the rebels, but I knew him better than that. I urged the king to surrender. Aerys didn’t listen to me nor Varys, who warned him against my father’s true motives; he listened instead to Grand Maester Pycelle. We opened the gates and my father sacked the city.

“Again, I urged Aerys to surrender. He told me to bring him my father’s head. He then turned to his pyromancer and said, “Burn them all. Burn them in their homes. Burn them in their beds.” I couldn’t stand by and let thousands of men, women, and children burn alive. How could I? I wouldn’t keep my oath, not then. I killed the pyromancer as he ran to set the town afire. And then, when the king turned to flee, I drove my sword into his back. He kept repeating, “Burn them all. Burn them all.” I think he intended to burn with the rest of us and be reborn into a dragon to turn the rest of his enemies to ash. He meant to set all of Westeros aflame.” 

Gendry didn’t say a word. He sat, stunned, staring at a spot on the table in front of Jaime. 

“I’m not proud of most things I’ve done: crippling the poor Stark boy, attacking Ned Stark, fucking Cersei. But I am proud of killing Aerys Targaryen. I will never say otherwise, Your Grace.” Jaime said.

“You should always be proud of that, Lord Lannister.” Gendry said finally. “You let me know if you ever need anything. You or Tommen, even Myrcella. If she wishes to be renamed ‘Myrcella Lannister,’ we shall take care of that swiftly.”

Jaime gave the king a small smile, still feeling something from his story. He asked suddenly, “What has become of my sister? I haven’t seen nor heard of her since you won the throne.”

Gendry didn’t want to look at the man but he did. “She waits in the dungeons.”

“The dungeons!” 

“Yes, your lordship. When you attempt to assassinate the new king, you get put in the dungeons.”

“Well that does sound like something she would do. How?”

“How did she try to kill me?” Gendry asked, astonished he was asking such a thing. Then again, he was a Lannister and they were rather blunt.

“When Tommen was surrendering to me, after you had been escorted from the city, she pulled a knife from her person and attempted to plunged it into my neck.” Gendry leaned closer to him and showed off the faint scar on his lower jaw. “She missed and Brienne took her out.”

“I would have thought Brienne to be quicker than that.” Jaime said, scratching his chin.

“It was to be a moment of peace after the end of a long war I had joined at the very end; no one thought an attack would occur.” Gendry said, simply. 

“Tommen was surrendering the crown and the kingdom Cersei had desperately wanted to keep. Of course she wouldn’t allow it.”

The men fell silent for a moment then Jaime asked, “What will become of her?”

“She will stand trial and if found guilty, she will be executed.”

Jaime nodded. Gendry looked at him, his expression softening. “Do you still love her?”

“No more than a brother loves his sister, Your Grace. My love for Cersei died with the horrible things she did.”

“You do know that she will be found guilty?”  
“Yes, Your Grace. I know.”

After a moment, Gendry asked, “Will you be there for it?”

“Yes. I want her to know that I feel nothing for her. Being present for her execution should do that, I suppose.”  
Gendry nodded. “Yes, that should do it.”

There was a loud bang as the door to the small council chamber swung opened. Neither man stood up as Arya Stark strode purposefully into the room. “I heard you were in here…” She stopped when her eyes settled on his companion.

“Arya Stark, Lord Jaime Lannister. Lord Lannister, Arya Stark.” Gendry said by way of introduction.

“I know who he is. What is he doing here?” Arya said, her voice full of hatred. Gendry had heard that tone often on their travels together. 

“We have business together.” Gendry said.

“Business with him? You should have his head thrown in the Blackwater!” Arya shouted. Her hand inched toward the sword on her hip. “I’ll do it.”

Gendry stood up abruptly, his chair falling backward and clattering on the floor. “Enough, Arya! He’s the Warden of the West! If I say I have business with him, I have business with him. He is here as a guest and should be treated as such!” 

Arya looked at him, her eyes narrowed. She turned on her heel and marched out of the chamber.

“Pardon me, Your Grace, but you shouldn’t have said that.” Jaime said quietly. “She won’t forgive that, not with the history between our families. I crippled her brother. My son killed her father. My father was involved in the plot to kill her brother and mother. The Lannisters and Starks do not get along.”

“You have a point…”

 


	5. The Lion and the Direwolf

“We must name a new Warden of the East, Your Grace.” Varys said after they had all settled down for the meeting. 

Gendry glared at him until he realized his mistake. Varys corrected, “Gendry.”

The king nodded and replied, “You are right. But who is the question.” 

Everyone sat in thought for a moment. Brienne said, “Any but Petyr Baelish.”

Most nodded in agreement. Theobald chimed in, “Nor the current Lord of the Vale, that sickly, young Robert Arryn.”

They were all surprised when Edric spoke up, “What of releasing Stannis Baratheon and sending him to Dragonstone to rule?” They all looked at him stunned: first, for the fact that he had spoken during a meeting; second for his suggestion.

“It wouldn’t be your most controversial decision, Gendry.” Varys said. “You did appoint Sansa Stark as the Wardeness of the North.”

“Sansa Stark is the eldest living Stark and the Starks rule the North.” Gendry said, giving Varys a dangerous look. 

“Do you not think that your feelings for the younger Stark girl have swayed your decision in the matter, Your Grace?” Varys asked.

Gendry ignored his use of ‘Your Grace’ and rose from his seat halfway, bracing himself on the table. When he spoke, he shot venom with every word. “My feelings for Arya Stark do not sway any decision that I make. I made that decision before she even came from Braavos. Don’t you dare say that I’m letting my emotions cloud my judgement. I can replace you in an instant, Varys. I overlooked your disloyalty to the crown when you went and joined Daenerys Targaryen’s council in the east. You came back after I took the throne and begged for your job back. You’re lucky I am forgiving, Lord Varys. I’ll send you back to Daenerys and you can help her rule Essos.”

Varys shook his head. “Essos doesn’t agree with me, the politics aren’t intriguing enough, my lord.”

“Then hold your tongue on matters that you know nothing about.” Gendry said, taking his seat at last. 

After a long, awkward pause, Edric said, “Stannis Baratheon for Warden of the East, yeah?”

“Yes. I will release him myself.” Gendry said, his eyes trained hard on the Spider. “We’re done for today.”

As Gendry made his leave, Varys attempted conversation with him but Gendry ignored the Spider until he gave up. He exited the Great Hall into the outer yard and started across it to Traitor’s Walk and the dungeons, Ser Podrick Payne following him at a distance.

Sitting on a half-wall was Arya Stark. She was watching a one-eared black tomcat lick its paw a few feet away. He approached her cautiously and it was a few moments before she took notice of him but, when she did, he saw tears in her eyes. He stood there and waited for her to speak first.

“When I came here with my father and sister over four years ago, my father hired me what we called a dancing instructor upon discovering my sword, Needle. He wanted me to train properly since I refused to relinquish the blade. Syrio Forel was his name. He was a Braavosi master fencer and the former First Sword of Braavos. He taught me the water dance. He had me do all sorts of things to train the Braavosi way: balance on one foot, walk blindfolded, catch cats. 

“This one here was the most difficult of all. I finally caught him after a chase throughout what seemed the entirety of the Keep. But Myrcella and Tommen, so young then, caught me and demanded to know what I was doing. I looked worse than I had on the road with you and Yoren, if you can believe it. They were going to throw me out like a common beggar but I escaped with the mindset Syrio had taught me.”

Gendry already had figured out the answer to the question before he asked it but did so anyway. “What became of Syrio?”

“Killed by Lannister men when Jaime Lannister attacked my father in the streets, wounding him. The queen demanded that my sister and I be brought to her. Syrio protected me, telling me to flee and hide. That’s when I was forced to hide for the remainder of my time in King’s Landing until I left with Yoren.”

_After your father was beheaded on a Lannister king’s order,_ Gendry thought. _No wonder you hate the lot of them._ Gendry sighed and took her hand. “I understand why you feel how you do about the Lannisters but the two we have in King’s Landing are the nicest of them all. Tommen has done nothing wrong, Arya. Give him a chance. Allow Lord Jaime to redeem himself. For me. _Please_ , Arya.”

“Why do you care? Why are you siding with the Lannisters?” Arya asked, pulling away from him. 

“I’m not siding with them. Jaime surrendered without bloodshed in the Red Keep. He saved countless lives. Tommen surrendered the crown without a fight too.” Gendry said. 

“So? You feel you owe them for surrendering peacefully? That is not something that you owe, Gendry!” Arya said, getting upset again.

Gendry took her hand and held it tighter when she tried to pull it away. “I don’t feel I owe them a thing. If anything, they owe me. No, they did me a great service in surrendering peacefully. I feel that they deserve some respect for that. There is honor in ending a war peacefully, Arya.”

She said smugly, “Fine. But I won’t like it.”

He kissed her forehead. “There’s the Arya I know.” He stepped back from her and motioned for Podrick to join him, he had kept out of earshot for their sake. To Arya, he said, “I must go. But, there will be a feast tonight in honor of you and our guests. I will see you there.”

Arya attempted a smile as he left. Podrick fell into stride with the king. Gendry said, “Podrick, I will want to speak to my uncle alone. You may stand outside the door but I don’t expect any trouble from Stannis.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Podrick said, nodding. 

They entered the dungeons and upon passing the first level, Gendry was pleased with how few prisoners remained there. Most had chosen the Wall instead of beheading. Only a hundred or so of the two thousand of Stannis’ men they had managed to capture had chosen the blade. They continued to the second level where highborns were given their own cells. Stannis’ was one of the first cells in the row. Gendry announced his arrival by way of knocking on the door. He unlocked the door with the key the chief gaoler had given him. 

Podrick remained outside as promised and Gendry entered the dimly lit room, the only source of light the flickering torch in the hall outside. Stannis sat with his back against the wall, legs drawn against his chest. One hand and one foot were chained. 

“Come to take me to my death?” Stannis said, his voice weak. Gendry wondered how much they had been feeding him. He pulled the horn from his side and offered it to the man. Stannis just looked at him but after that second’s pause, he took the horn and drank it as if he was dying of thirst. Gendry thought that he very well might be. 

When he had all but emptied the horn, Stannis said, “So, not to my death then.”

“What makes you think that?” Gendry asked.

“You wouldn’t give drink to someone you’re about to execute, Your Grace.” 

Gendry nodded. “You’re right, I wouldn’t. Unless it was meant to trick you.”

Stannis wasn’t amused. “What will you do with my men?” His uncle asked, eyes trained on him.

“They had the option of the Wall or their head on a spike.” Gendry said simply. He was calm as he talked to the prisoner. 

Stannis nodded. “That’s fair.” After a moment, he added, “You say ‘had.’ You’ve already given them this option, yes?”

“Yes. Most chose the Wall and are on their way now. The others await execution.”

Stannis nodded and without a moment’s pause continued, “And what of me? Am I to take the black as well?”  
Gendry shook his head and Stannis’ head dropped. He spoke before Gendry could. “My head then, you _were_ jesting. Also fair, Your Grace.”

Gendry stared at him for a long moment before he found his voice. “No. You are Lord Stannis Baratheon of Dragonstone, Warden of the East.”

Stannis stared at him blankly. “You honor me beyond words, Your Grace. We were commanding armies to slaughter each other on the battlefield not three moons ago and here you are, giving me the East.”

“You fought for what you believed right. You thought you had the best claim to the throne. I have the best claim to the throne, uncle.” Gendry said, as if it were that simple.

“Aye, you do.” Stannis said, nodding. 

Gendry leaned down and unlocked Stannis’ shackles. “You’re free to go. We’re having a feast tonight. Shireen is keen on going, we would be honored if you would attend.”

Stannis nodded and followed Gendry out of the cell. Podrick brought up the rear as the three men exited the dungeons. 

* * *

The feast was set and everyone was waiting for him by the time he arrived later that night. They rose for him until he took his seat. He still hadn’t gotten used to that. Arya was on his right, Mya next to her, Edric next to her, and Shireen Baratheon next to him. On his left was Jaime Lannister, Tommen Lannister, Stannis Baratheon, and Ser Davos Seaworth. The rest of the table was filled with his Kingsguard and small council. Other members of the court were at tables elsewhere in the hall and soon the room was full of chatter of a hundred voices. 

Edric and Shireen were lost in conversation, Gendry was jealous of the cousins for having spent time together. He had spent relatively little time with Shireen since she had been with them in King’s Landing, and he regretted that greatly. She would be leaving with her father within the fortnight.

Davos and Stannis seemed to have much to talk about, they were very close at one point in time. 

Gendry’s eyes fell upon Arya, who had barely touched her venison and barley soup. She was holding her knife upright on the tabletop, staring right at Jaime Lannister. Gendry kicked Arya’s leg lightly under the table but she ignored him and continued her death glare at the elder Lannister.

“Go ahead, wolf-girl. See how far you get. I may have one hand but I can still put you in your place.” Jaime said lazily, dipping his spoon into the soup and raising it to his lips. He drank it down and watched Arya as she lowered the knife and picked up her spoon instead. “Good. Now, Arya, what would you say to ending the feud our houses have?” 

“I don’t know if that’s a possibility, Lord Jaime.” Arya said, remembering her training from her septon years ago. It was like Gendry was looking at another woman. Then she said something that made him remember exactly who she was. “Your family murdered half of my family.”

Nymeria, standing next to Arya’s chair, let out a growl. Gendry ran a hand over her fur, trying to sooth her. Nymeria sat back down and allowed the king to scratch her ears. 

“Arya,” Jaime began, his voice as soft as silk. “I’m trying to apologize for what I have done. I’m sorry for crippling young Brandon. I was lost in a moment of passion and thought it the only way to keep my secret, but that was known soon enough anyway. I’m sorry I attacked your father in the street, it was reckless. All of the acts I committed during the war were for House Lannister and the crown, they cannot be held against me. The gods made me pay for the sins of my past with my hand. Is that not enough?”

Arya mulled it over as she stared hard at the golden haired man. “The lion and the wolf were never meant to be friends.” She looked at Tommen, who looked saddened by the whole exchange. “But, since neither of you are Joffrey or Cersei or Tywin, I think the Starks of Winterfell can make an exception.”

The former king’s face lit up.

 


	6. Sparring and a Betrothal

Gendry sat on the low wall that bordered the training yard as he watched Lord Jaime Lannister stand in the center with a sparring sword in his left hand. Arya Stark stood opposite him, also holding a sparring sword, one much thinner than Jaime’s. Both wore light leather armor, to combat the bruising they would receive from the swords. 

“Whose idea was this?” Tommen Lannister asked, sitting next to him on the wall. 

“Your father’s. He wishes to give Arya the chance to beat him, if she can.” Gendry said as the two held their swords out to each other and took their stances. Arya held herself like her dancing instructor had taught her, like a water dancer, standing sideways with her thin blade. Though he had lost a hand and his honor, Jaime held himself like a knight, like the true warrior he once was.

The swords rang out as they both swung, trying to land a hard blow upon the other. They withdrew and Arya dodged a quick attack from the Kingslayer. She hit him hard under the arm, in the ribs. Jaime winced but he swung his sword at her and caught her elbow. The pain didn’t phase her, her time in Braavos at the House of Black and White had taught her to not feel pain. She attacked him again, stepping lightly. She would jab him with the sword then retreat out of reach. She stood sideways as he slashed at her, his blade missing her by inches. He still hadn’t mastered the use of a sword since losing his hand years ago, he likely never would. The Kingslayer would slay no one again. Arya jabbed him with her blade, right where his heart was under the thick boiled leather.

“The girl can fight.” Gendry turned his head to see his uncle standing next to Tommen. Stannis watched her closely for a moment then said, “She fights like a foreigner.”

“She was trained by the first sword of Braavos.” The king said, watching Arya fight the Lannister man she had promised to forgive. 

“Did Lord Eddard Stark hire this Braavosi to train her?” Stannis asked.

“Yes. He loved Arya and Arya wanted to fight, he damn well made sure she would be ready.” Gendry replied.

“Good man.” Stannis muttered. “Every father should do all they can for their children.”

“Aye, they should.” Gendry said. He smiled as he watched Arya and Jaime spar. 

Tommen said after a while, “When does it end? Is there ever a real winner?”

“Bored of it already, young Tommen?” Gendry asked, raising a black eyebrow.

The former king admitted, “A little.”

To Ser Perros Blackmont of his Kingsguard, Gendry said, “Fetch Shireen Baratheon from her quarters and bring her here. I would like to spend time with her before she departs for Dragonstone.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The Dornishman said. Stannis looked at him peculiarly for a moment before glancing at Tommen. He realized the king’s intention in a moment. 

The swords sang their song for another ten minutes before Jaime wheezed, “I yield.”

“What was that, Lion of Lannister?” Arya taunted. 

“ _Arya_.” Gendry said sharply. “He yielded. Accept.”

She rolled her eyes and tossed her sword in the mud. “Fine. I accept your surrender, Lord Jaime.”

Jaime bowed to the winner and said, “Thank you, my lady.”

Gendry didn’t know if they would ever be friends but he had high hopes of them not killing each other. Arya stripped off her armor and walked over to Gendry, Tommen, and Stannis. Jaime did the same, taking a bit longer with only one hand. He didn’t have a squire nor did he have any of his household with him. His son looked ready to help but Jaime didn’t want the pity. He was still a proud man. 

As Jaime sauntered over to the group, Ser Perros returned with Shireen Baratheon. She was dressed in a flowy gown popular in the capital. Her brown hair was styled in braids pinned at the back of her head. She was a true girl of the capital. 

“Father!” She said, smiling at him. He smiled back and let her hug him. His arms wrapped loosely around her and she smiled up at him as she pushed back from his chest. 

“Hello, Shireen.” Gendry said.

She turned to him and gave him a poor curtsy. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

“It’s just Gendry to you, cousin.” He said to her. He looked at Arya and said quietly, “I have quick business with them. I will sup with you tonight.”

She just nodded and walked away, likely to the kennels where Nymeria would be. Gendry turned to the lords and their children. He said, “Come, we have much to discuss.”

Jaime and Stannis looked at each other for a brief moment before following the king toward Maegor’s Holdfast. Tommen and Shireen remained where they were until Gendry called, “You two with us!” They hurried after their fathers. Gendry led them to the small council chambers and sat down. The Lannisters sat to his right, the Baratheons to his left. 

“What is this about, Your Grace?” Jaime asked. 

“Not as bright as your hair, I see.” Stannis said, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“I have a proposition for you two lords.” Gendry said, looking from one to the other. Then he looked at their children, who were surprised to be there at all. They were the same age, roughly 15. “Tommen, your wife, Margaery Tyrell, has asked for an annulment on your marriage.”

“Oh,” was all that the boy could say.

“I have granted it.” Gendry said. “But, I have another option for you. I wish to unite the East and the West. To unite Baratheon and Lannister in a better way this time than my father had done.”

The two lord fathers looked at each other in brief disgust before settling their eyes on the king. He continued, “If you consent, I wish to have Tommen of House Lannister and Shireen of House Baratheon married when they both come of age, which will be their next namedays.”

Jaime looked to Tommen, who was still saddened by the news of Margaery’s annulment. Jaime glanced over at Shireen instead, she was smiling to herself, her lips stretching across her face in a way that made the Greyscale look less hideous. He knew that she was a nice girl and Tommen could be happy with her. He was a sweet boy after all. Jaime spoke up, “I consent.”

Stannis looked at him as if he were a wildling. He hadn’t liked Lannisters much all his life. He had hated that Robert had married Cersei but Stannis understood duty and knew that it was the right thing to do. Besides, his king was broaching the subject, it must be important to him. “I consent too.”

Tommen looked across the table at his intended, the morose expression that had just plagued his face disappearing. He smiled at her and she smiled right back. Gendry hoped he was making a wise decision. 

 


	7. Lord Stark

The king held the sword in his hand. Valyrian steel. He had only seen Valyrian steel once before, while working in Tobho Mott’s shop at the top of the Street of Steel. He knew this was his old master’s mark. As he remembered, Mott was one of three or four steel masters in the world who could manipulate Valyrian steel. It made sense that he would rework Ice in King’s Landing. 

Tommen had left it in his bedchamber for him to find with a scroll, thanking him for a fitting match for his betrothal. He felt the sword brought him shame and wished for it to be returned to its rightful owners. _Widow’s Wail_ , Joffrey had named it; roughly 2/5 of the Stark ancestral sword, Ice. Gendry sheathed the sword and exited his chamber. He knew who to give it to, after alterations of course. 

Walking through the halls, accompanied by Ser Andrew Estermont and Ser Podrick Payne, he wondered how the boy would react when he first met him. He was wild, his knights had told him, as was the woman. The direwolf was even worse. 

“Fine sword, Your Grace.” Stannis Baratheon had fallen into step next to Gendry while he was lost in thought. His uncle was looking down at the hilt. “Lannister, isn’t it?”

The three golden lion heads that made up the hilt were a giveaway of that. Gendry replied, “ _Was_ a Lannister sword. Forged from the Stark sword, Ice.” 

“Ah. And you intend to return it to the Starks.” His uncle said, nodding.

“After I have the hilt altered, of course.” Gendry just looked at Stannis, hoping he would tell him why he was there. Stannis finally did.

“The trial nears, Your Grace.” 

Gendry nodding, looking forward again. “Yes, Lord Stannis.”

“And, who is on the jury?” Stannis asked boldly.

“None but me, as of now.” Gendry admitted. Stannis just nodded. “But, I plan on appointing Lord Jaime…”

“Lord Jaime? Are you mad?” 

“Rein your tongue, Lord Stannis.” Ser Andrew roared, his hand on the hilt of his sword. 

Stannis gave him a look and raised an eyebrow. “I meant nothing by it, Ser.” Stannis replied.

Gendry smiled and said, “Yes, Lord Jaime will be one of the jurors. He hates Cersei and wants to see her punished for her crimes. But, I will give you the honor too, if you’ll have it.”

“It would be my pleasure, Your Grace.” Stannis said. He would have smiled if he were a normal man. But Stannis was as cold as the winds that howled at Dragonstone. 

“Is that all, Uncle?” Gendry asked as they neared the Great Hall. He didn’t wish for Stannis to see what waited there for him.

“Yes, Your Grace.” With those simple words, his uncle gave him a queer look before making his leave.

Gendry stood in front of the Hall’s doors and took a deep breath. He honestly didn’t know how to handle this. Ser Andrew’s hand was on the door handle, waiting for the king’s orders. None came. Ser Andrew asked, uncertainly, “Your Grace?”

Gendry looked at Ser Podrick and handed him the Valyrian steel sword. “Take this to Tobho Mott on the Street of Steel. Tell him to keep it safe and I will come meet with him before the day is up.”

Podrick nodded and scurried away with the sword. Gendry turned back to the doors and took another full minute, just staring at the wood, before saying, “Open the doors.”

Ser Andrew did so dutifully, shoving the two oak doors apart. Gendry strode into the room like he had been born to, which he certainly had not been. The room looked ordinary except for the black wolf in chains and the rest of his kingsguard surrounding a young boy with shaggy brown hair and a woman with wild eyes. Gendry approached them and motioned for his men to give the two some room. His kingsguard took five paces back but Brienne stayed where she was with the direwolf’s chains in hand. 

The boy stared at him hard, angry with his circumstances. The woman stood with a blank expression on her face; Gendry wondered why. Six knights stood by, the ones who found Rickon Stark and his wildling protector. Ser Rolland Storm stepped forward at the king’s approach and spoke without permission. “We found the Stark boy and the wildling on Skagos, just as the Hand thought, Your Grace.”

“The bitch got a dagger in Ser Mark Mullendore before any of us could react, Your Grace.” The young Ser Hugh Beesbury said, glaring at the wilding woman. She looked back at him with an almost-smirk on her face. “You should lock her in the dungeons and be done with her. The boy too, just as wild. The wolf’s beyond hope I fear.”

“You don’t tell the king what to do.” Ser Andrew said, eying Ser Hugh reproachfully. “Nor do you advise him. That is for his small council.”

Gendry held up a hand to silence his father’s cousin. “It’s quite all right, Ser Andrew. But, Ser Hugh, I shall not be doing any of the sort. This boy is the brother of my lady…”

The young boy burst out hopefully, “Is Sansa here?”

The king smiled as he shook his head, “No, little lord, Arya is.”

“Arya?” Rickon asked.

“Yes, Lord Stark. Arya is here. Sansa is in Winterfell.” 

“Winterfell’s burned. Saw it meself.” Osha said, eyes narrowing skeptically. 

“Burned things can be rebuilt.” The king said. The wildling remained set in her way. 

Gendry turned his attention to the youngest Stark. He was wild; more wild than Arya. Rickon was a young boy of ten, he had been raised by the wildling woman in many ways. His father had left Winterfell when he was six, his mother not too long after that. He himself had left the burned fortress a year after when he was merely seven or eight. Gendry didn’t know which. Rickon was, in most senses of the word, a wildling. 

The king crouched down to Rickon’s height and said, “You’re Rickon Stark, are you not?”

The boy stared at him stubbornly before replying with a harsh, “Yes.”

“You went north from Winterfell with your brother, Brandon Stark, after Theon Greyjoy took your home, yes?”

Another harsh, “Yes.”

“Brandon Stark is dead, yes?”

This time, Rickon answered back not harshly but softly, “Nothing can kill Bran. He’s alive.”

“Where?”

“In wildling country.” The woman answered. “My country.”

“The king didn’t ask you to speak!” Ser Andrew spat, hitting her across the legs with the blunt edge of his sword.

Gendry grabbed his wrist and said, “If you ever strike the lady again, I shall remove your sword hand, Ser.”

“My apologies, Your Grace.”

“It wasn’t me you offended.”

“No offense taken.” The wildling said.

Gendry smiled at her. She was a tough one. She would have to be, growing up where she did. He asked, “What’s your name?”

“Osha.”

“And how are you so certain of Brandon Stark’s whereabouts?” He asked pleasantly enough.

“We parted not far from the Wall. That’s where he said he was going and beyond. I tried to talk him out of it, I swear, m’lord. But he wasn’t havin’ it.”

Gendry nodded. “Where was he headed?”

Osha shrugged. “Alls he said was he was goin’ north to meet the three eyed raven.”

“What’s the three eyes raven?”

“You never ‘eard the tale?”

Gendry shook his head.

“Don’t listen to anything this heathen says, Your Grace. She’s been spoutin’ tales since Skagos.” Ser Hugh cautioned.

Gendry held up a hand to silence the knight. “Tell me, my lady.”

“I ain’t no lady, but I’ll tell ya all the same, m’lord.”

“And I ain’t no lord, but I’ll listen all the same, Osha.”

The wildling woman smiled and was about to tell but the young Stark boy tugged on her sleeve and said, “I want to tell!”

“Go ahead, little lord.”

Rickon began excitedly, “The three-eyed raven is linked with the power of greensight.” He stared into the king’s eyes. “Those with the Sight can see the future and the past. Osha says we Starks can do it ‘cause we have the blood of the First Men in our veins.”

“Aye,” Osha cut him off. “But not all of you ‘ave it. Just like not all the free folk ‘ave it, little lord.”

Gendry nodded and said, “Brandon has the Sight?”

“Yes.”

“And what’s the significance?” 

Rickon shrugged. “Bran thought it important.”

Gendry didn’t think anything of it. Brandon Stark was long gone, unfindable unless he wished to be found. Gendry wouldn’t waste any resources on him, not now. Not while his kingdom was still so new and rocky. He still had some foes to vanquish, like the Greyjoys and he still had to make peace with the Martells. But how to do the latter was the true problem…

He realized that all eyes were on him and he thought quickly, “Lord Stark, would you like to see your sister?” 

Rickon smiled, _truly smiled_ for the first time and nodded vigorously. 

 


	8. Two Direwolves

Arya sat in a chair by the hearth, a fire crackling to heat the room as light snowflakes danced passed the window. _Winter is coming_ , she thought. She held a book on Nymeria, the Rhoynar warrior-queen in her hands, reading it lazily. Her direwolf of the same name lay at her feet, dozing off. She hadn’t slept well the night before, nightmares of old coming back to haunt her. Her father’s execution had replayed behind her eyelids all night, causing her to wake repeatedly in a cold sweat, tears clinging to her eyelashes. Nymeria had been by her side all night, offering her whatever comfort she needed but it wasn’t enough. What she wanted was her family back.

She wanted Sansa by her side, working at her needles to make useless embroidery just for decoration. She wanted Robb and Jon to spar with. She wanted Bran and Rickon to ride horses with and practice archery. But, she wanted her parents most of all. She wanted her mother to tell her to be more of a lady, she missed her disapproval for some reason. She missed her father’s encouragement, his acceptance of her choice to be unladylike. She missed her family. She always wondered if she should have gone looking for Sansa instead of going to Braavos. 

There was a soft knock on her door and she hastily wiped away the tears on her face before she said as strong as possible, “Come in.” She turned her head to looked at the door and watched as the king walked in. She smiled at him and he was smiling back at her. 

“I have a surprise for you.” He said, walking to her. He offered her his hand and she took it. Nymeria stayed where she was but Gendry called, “Nymeria, come.”

Arya looked at him queerly and said, “She’s tired.”

“The surprise is for her too.”

He pulled her out of her room and down the hall, Ser Narbert Grandison of the kingsguard following them. They went through the long dining hall of the Maidenvault and down another hallway, past the large chambers where Baelor the Blessed had housed his sisters. At the end of the hallway, Gendry stopped. Arya just looked at him as he opened the door after a short knock. He held the door for her and she walked through, stopping in her tracks.

The room was large with a sitting room then a chamber father on with a large bed. Chairs of various colors littered the entry chamber, all around the crackling blaze in the hearth. It was a lot like her own chamber — just as large and welcoming. But, this one had another inhabitant. Another Stark.

He was sitting in a chair by the fire, looking little like he had years ago last she saw him. He was nearing eleven, had to be by now. His hair was shaggy, well past his shoulders at this point. His face was hardened from his years away from Winterfell. His eyes were where she saw the real change in him. They had lost the innocence that once shone so brightly from their blue depths. Rickon used to be so sweet and would hold her hand as they walked through the halls when he was young. Now, with his unruly appearance, she almost didn’t want to go near him. 

Behind her youngest brother was a monstrous black direwolf: Shaggydog. He stared at her, his large, green eyes not showing any kindness. That was until he saw his sister enter the room behind Arya. Nymeria’s eyes met Shaggydog’s and for a moment, it was like no one had ever left Winterfell. The direwolves ran to each other and nuzzled the other’s neck affectionately. 

A woman stood behind Rickon. She was tall and lean, her brown hair wild and shaggy. Her hand was on Rickon’s shoulder and she stood protective over him, always on guard from any who might harm the boy. Arya realized that Rickon had more or less been raised by the wildling woman, whose name she didn’t even know. She had done their family a great service and Arya didn’t even know who she was. 

Arya approached Rickon slowly, glancing back at Gendry as she did. He was nodding in an encouraging way, but she didn’t feel very reassured by it. She stood in front of him, the hearth at her back. He stared up at her, his blue eyes cold with almost no light behind them. But, slowly, warmth began to creep into them and he shuffled toward her at the insistence of the wildling woman, who whispered, “Go on, little lord.”

Rickon, mere inches from Arya, reached out and wrapped his arms around her. The top of his head came up to her chin and she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head. Her arms enveloped him into a tight hug and she found herself shaking as she let herself cry. Rickon’s arms tightened around her and he seemed to melt into her. 

* * *

Gendry sat in his solar hours later, having left Arya with her brother to reacquaint themselves after years of not seeing each other. He tapped his quill pen against the parchment, staring at the blank sheet. Now that Rickon was in the capital, he knew that the time had come to write the letter. He had made several drafts already but it had never been right, he was terrible at writing. In the end, with the candle running low and scraps of parchment littering the floor, he kept it simple.

 

_ Willas Tyrell, _

_ Come to King’s Landing. A marriage proposal awaits you. _

_ Many thanks,  _

_ King Gendry Baratheon _

 

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the words he had just scratched into the paper. He wondered how fast a cripple could make it from Highgarden. He worried that he would arrive before his intended. 

Gendry sighed and pushed himself away from his desk. He began to pace the room. A knock on the door interrupted him. It opened and Holin Buckler, the squire in his service, walked in. 

He said, “Pardon me, Your Grace. Lady Stark wishes to visit with you.”

“Always see her in, Holin, no questions need be asked.” Gendry said. Holin nodded and walked out of the room. 

Gendry leaned against his desk and watched Arya walked through the door. She shut it swiftly and crossed the room in three paces. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with so much passion, he thought he would faint from it. He kept his hands on the desk to brace himself because he was becoming lightheaded from her kiss. 

She finally pulled away and leaned against his chest. “You’re amazing, you are. I can’t believe you found him — actually found him. I can never thank you enough.”

Gendry smiled and wrapped his arms around her torso, feeling well enough to release the desk. She was holding onto him with all of her might. He could feel her tears on his chest, the wetness penetrating the light fabric of his tunic. He said, “You don’t have to thank me, Arya. When you love someone, you do anything you can to make them happy.”

She pulled back from him to look in his eyes. When she spoke, her tone was almost mocking. “Did you just say you love me?”

He smirked. “I may have, m’lady.”

She smiled and smacked his shoulder. “No, you don’t.”

He kissed her quickly on the lips. “Yes, I do.” He kissed her jaw. “And I know you love me too.” He kissed her earlobe. With each new place he kissed, she squirmed away from him, trying to fight how much she liked it. 

She eventually gave up and collapsed against his chest. She mumbled, “I might love you too. If you don’t make a big deal of it.”

Gendry smiled to himself, trying hard not to laugh. “Could m’lady do her king a favor?”

Arya rolled her eyes and said, “What is it, _Your Grace_?”

“Write your sister. Summon her here at once. Tell her to take a ship from White Harbor with haste.”

Arya pulled away and looked at him skeptically. “Why? To see Rickon?”

“Something like that.”

 


End file.
